


In the Terminal

by Starlithorizon



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Gen, Vignette, a ridiculous little thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-13 07:49:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/821805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starlithorizon/pseuds/Starlithorizon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Catching sight of an interesting crew in the airport terminal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Terminal

**Author's Note:**

> So, I wrote this in about half an hour while waiting for my flight. I mean, this was really written in an airport terminal almost immediately after noticing a first officer and captain walk by. They looked like proper Muppet pilots, though, so, you know.  
> I don't even know. It's a thing.

I hadn't spent much time in airports, admittedly, but even I could tell that this group was something else. They navigated with the characteristic familiarity of those who did this for a living, the four of them, faces ranging from weary to bored to elated. I watched as the older woman spoke to the three men with an air of authority, rather befitting a general speaking to her troops. Well, troop.

The tallest of the men, an excited brunet with big eyes and an upturned nose, decked out in red and black (and a _cravat_ , really?) and an eager grin, gestured wildly as he spoke to the woman. In his enthusiasm, I heard the loud _Brilliant!_ spilling forth like soda bubbles. The first officer, as marked by the three gold bars on his jacket sleeve, spoke with a sardonically raised brow. He was suave and distinguished, the proper representation of a captain. Quite unlike the flustered redhead blustering at the woman with the fourth bar on _his_ sleeve.

The woman threw up her arms in a gesture that clearly said "What can you do," and the captain drooped. The quartet moved to the seating area, each sitting in the seats across from me. Well, the woman and first officer sat like normal people. The captain and excitable cravat-wearer each flopped down, though in vastly different ways.

"I can't _believe_ you're going to make us stay here all day," the redhead groaned, frowning at the woman. "Just because you don't want to pay for a hotel!"

"Martin, four hours is not _all day_ ," she rebuked. "If you want to sleep, go ahead. These seats look comfortable enough."

"Carolyn—"

"Hush. You are within regulations, it's just a matter of waiting. You will be fine, you berk."

After a long, slightly awkward pause, the smooth FO got to his feet and looked around. Spying something a bit in the distance, he nodded decisively.

"I'm going to go get something from that coffee place over there. Anyone want anything?"

Carolyn and Martin declined with grumbles, and the other man did so with a grin. The older pilot walked on in his hunt for caffeine.

"Will you at least buy lunch?" Martin asked quietly. "This was meant to be a quick there-and-back, so Arthur didn't order any catering. It's the least you can do, Carolyn."

She sighed, looking supremely put-upon.

"You each have a five-pound limit," she sighed after a while.

"Mum, we're in America," the tall man (Arthur?) said helpfully.

"Fine! A five- _dollar_ limit." She dug through her purse and pulled out a credit card, handing it to the possible Arthur. "Bring me back a hamburger or something."

"Right-o! Come on, Skip!" Martin and Maybe Arthur scarpered off to get food, likely on the hunt for McDonald's. Carolyn settled back, looking simultaneously pleased and bored of being alone.

I studied her closely, the mother of a man who seemed quite overtly pleased with the world at large, a woman who looked quite distinctly _less than_ pleased with, well, everything. She had hard lines on her face and a small silver pin on her scarf that said MJN Air. I'd noticed a matching pin on Maybe Arthur's vest. Clearly he worked with this woman, his mother, for a company I'd never heard of. Though they were obviously British. England has all kinds of companies I don't know about.

Douglas returned soon bearing four cups. Carolyn raised an eyebrow at this act of kindness, alerting me to the fact that it was a rare occurrence.

"I got you tea," he said, handing her a cup. "I know you prefer it."

"Thank you, Douglas," she said, suspicion and gratitude commingling in her voice. He set the cardboard carrier on the floor by his feet and sat down, retrieving his own steaming cup. They sat in companionable silence until the other two came back with food. They doled it out, Possibly Arthur regaling them with the fascinating tale of the woman in line in front of them and her order of sixty chicken nuggets. He then spiraled off onto a tangent about chicken nuggets, and his preference for them, and whether chickens had nuggets (to which Douglas and Martin barely suppressed giggles), and on and on.

"Arthur!" Martin finally cried fifteen minutes into the strange discussion which had turned to whether fish had fingers, and whether the Doctor could regenerate into a fish, and whether starfish were actually Time Lords. Definitely Arthur blinked, mouth slightly agape.

"Yeah, Skip?"

"Starfish aren't aliens."

They chattered together for a while longer until an announcement rang out for the crew of MJN Air. Carolyn stood up, smoothing her impeccable suit.

"Well, that's us. Come along, dolts." MJN Air, comprised as it was of a scrawny ginger pilot and a suave middle-aged first officer and a man wearing a cravat who was obviously the steward, rose and walked to the gate where a tiny, dilapidated plane was waiting on the Tarmac.

It seemed oddly fitting. My flight on a big, major, famous airline was actually a bit disappointing after coming across this company.

After Googling them, though, I was kind of glad I hadn't flown with them.

Maybe next time.

Or not.


End file.
